


it was only self defense (with arms unfolding: the remix)

by alotofthingsdifferent



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: M/M, Misunderstanding, Pining, Prequel, communication is important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-26 12:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20742281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent
Summary: Lovett gets a text message that changes everything.(A prequel to “with arms unfolding”, from Lovett’s point of view.)





	it was only self defense (with arms unfolding: the remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [preciousthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciousthings/gifts).

> Remix of [with arms unfolding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20021779) by @preciousthings.
> 
> Many, many, many thanks to my dear A, who made this so much better than it started out being!

_Jon’s arms in that shirt -- what the hell? Does he even realize how attractive he is? It’s distracting as fuck._

Lovett held his phone carefully in one hand, blinking a few times before re-reading Tommy’s text. He snuck a quick look at Jon, who was leaned back in his chair and pulling distractedly at his lower lip as he scrolled through his Twitter feed. Lovett glanced down at his arms, and it wasn’t like Tommy was _wrong_ \-- Jon’s basic white v-neck really did show off the definition in his biceps. It was just...

Since when was that something Tommy noticed, let alone texted Lovett about?

He thumbed over the keyboard, mulling a response. It was only then that he realized his hand was shaking a little, his heart racing. He risked a look at Tommy, who was hunched over his laptop squinting at the screen like he was waiting for it to answer a question, and texted back a quick _Something you’d like to share with the class, Thomas_?

Lovett saw the moment Tommy heard his phone buzz on his desk. He watched Tommy hold it up and unlock it, his eyes on the screen as he read Lovett’s message. The flush that crept up Tommy’s neck was a little unexpected, and Lovett sucked in a sharp breath when Tommy flicked his gaze from his screen to Lovett’s face. Lovett tilted his head in question and watched Tommy’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat when he swallowed. 

_Uh...surprise?_ Tommy replied, and that’s how Lovett learned about the clandestine love affair between his two best friends. 

*

After Tommy had come clean about his -- his -- _whatever_ it was with Jon, Lovett spent the rest of the day in a single office with the door closed, pretending to work but actually holding Pundit on his lap and watching his favorite episodes of _Star Trek_ on Netflix. His efforts to distract himself were fruitless, though. All he could think about was how long his friends -- his _best friends_, the two people who knew more about him than _anyone else_, the two people he trusted with his future, with his creative output, with his _life_ \-- had kept this huge secret from him. It hurt, honestly, that they didn’t think they could trust him, and the corners of his eyes prickled with tears. It wasn’t that they were together in the first place that had him shaken. It was that they’d excluded him from such an important part of their lives. He thought they were all in this together, and the fact that they felt they couldn’t tell him something so incredibly important, well. It made Lovett’s chest ache. 

After awhile, he decided trying to work was a lost cause and powered off his laptop, shoving it into his bag and clipping Pundit to her lead. A quick peek down the hall revealed all was quiet, so he made a break for it, hoping the sound of Pundit’s nails on the floor didn’t carry to the office he shared with Jon and Tommy.

He was almost to the elevator, home free, when he heard Tommy’s voice calling after him.

“Lovett, wait!” 

Lovett jammed his finger against the down button a few times, willing the door to open so he could slip inside, but he heard Tommy’s footsteps landing heavily on the floor -- jogging, then -- and when he looked over his shoulder, Tommy was already there. 

“Lovett. Can we -- are you going home? Can we talk? We can have dinner or something, my treat, I just -- I wanna make sure we’re ok. We’re ok, right?”

Tommy was a little red in the face, his eyes a little wild. He was talking a mile a minute, and he had his hands shoved in his pockets. 

“Breathe, Tommy,” Lovett said, while trying to remember to breathe himself. “We’re fine.” It wasn’t a lie, really. It wasn’t the whole truth, either, but Lovett wasn’t quite ready to admit that part just yet.

Tommy rocked back on his heels, and Lovett avoided his eyes, pushing the down button a few more times, as if that would make the elevator show up faster. 

“Lovett,” Tommy said softly, and it sounded so much like a plea that Lovett felt his throat go tight. 

“If you wanna talk, Tommy, we’ll talk,” Lovett said, trying to keep his voice even. “Just -- give me a minute to process this, okay? It’s not every day a guy finds out his two best friends were some -- some -- _thing_,” he says, waving his hand a little dramatically, “and never told him about it.” 

Tommy winced almost imperceptibly, and the elevator dinged, signalling it’s arrival. 

Lovett hurried inside, Pundit at his heels, and watched Tommy disappear behind the closing doors before sagging against the wall, his heart in his stomach.

*

Lovett was quiet in the office the next couple of weeks. He did a lot of his work in the conference room; he delivered his lines during ad reads but stuck to the script; he skipped two founders lunches in a row, claiming he needed the extra time to rework _ Lovett or Leave It_ material with Travis. Tommy had noticed—Lovett could tell by the way he kept catching Tommy staring at him with a concerned look on his face, the corners of his mouth turned down and his brow furrowed—but if Jon thought anything was weird, he didn’t mention it. 

He couldn’t get out of dinner with the two of them that night, though. It’d been on the calendar for a month—a celebration of some sort of milestone Lovett couldn’t recall— and he made it through just barely, too distracted by wondering if the two of them were back together to add much to the conversation. He begged out earlier than he normally would, claiming a headache, and only felt a little guilty when Jon offered to drive him home. 

The thing is, Lovett thought as he slammed his way into the house, tossing his keys on the counter and bending over to scoop Pundit into his arms. The thing is, he’d thought -- 

He hadn’t imagined it, had he? The looks Tommy had been giving him the last few months. The casual, lingering touches, the sweet smiles, the increase in the amount of one-on-one time they’d been spending together. Just a few nights before Tommy’s bombshell text, Lovett had fallen asleep on Tommy’s couch, his head resting on Tommy’s shoulder, and instead of waking him up and sending him home, Tommy had covered both of them in a blanket and fallen asleep too. (Lovett’s neck was sore as hell the next day, but the shy, secret smiles Tommy kept shooting him across the room made it worth it.) 

God, he was an idiot. Of _course_ he’d misread the situation. Tommy was just -- being Tommy, Lovett guessed, and he should have known better than to assume anything different. Tommy and Jon had always been weirdly close. Lovett had, on more than one occasion, yelled at them to “get a room”, and neither of them had dated anyone seriously for years now. The revelation that they were dating each _other_ should have been the least surprising thing in the world, and yet it weighed on Lovett even now, weeks later, even after Tommy had assured him the next day, and the next week, and just two hours ago at dinner when Jon excused himself to the bathroom, that it had been “over for awhile” and that his text was just some sort of, how did he put it? _Random observation_.

And really, Lovett told himself, he should just let it go. Clearly he’d misinterpreted things with Tommy, and it wasn’t _Tommy’s_ fault that Lovett thought maybe they were heading towards a “more than friends” kind of relationship. He needed to just put it out of his mind. Move on. Maybe he’d download Grindr again, find a good lay and forget all about Tommy and his stupid muscles and his big heart and the dumb crinkles he got around his eyes and mouth whenever he smiled. 

He checked his phone -- 9:00 pm on a Friday, he could totally find someone who was down to fuck -- and made his way to the bathroom, turning the water on as hot as he could stand it. 

Who needed Tommy Vietor anyway.

*

As it turned out, Lovett was maybe a little pickier than he originally thought. Grindr showed plenty of guys nearby who were ready and willing to hook up -- he got more than one message from this cute barista about all the things he wanted to do to Lovett using just his mouth -- but it all seemed like too much effort. And now, at nearly midnight, he really _did_ have a headache. 

His phone was face down on the cushion next to him, Pundit’s chin resting on his knee and _Schitt’s Creek_ playing on mute on the TV, and his throat tightened as he watched David smile at Patrick on the screen. 

He sighed and let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling and threading his fingers through Pundit’s fur, when she suddenly lifted her head, her ears perking under Lovett’s hand. She woofed quietly, her tail thumping once against the cushions, and then she was off, bounding towards the front window excitedly. He groaned dramatically and pushes himself to his feet, following her to see what all the fuss is about.

“You’re letting that squirrel get the best of you,” he chided, but he stopped in his tracks when he realized that it was not, in fact, a squirrel that had gotten her attention. Standing near the end of his driveway, looking sheepish and a little bit creepy, to be honest, lurking around in the dark, was Tommy, Lucca barking wildly at his feet. 

“You just gonna stand there, or what?” Lovett called , and Tommy shook his head, avoiding Lovett’s eyes. 

Pundit yipped excitedly at Lovett’s feet; Lucca tugged at her leash, whining at Tommy to let her go. “Your dog wants to see me,” Lovett said, and he saw the moment Tommy gave in, his shoulders slumping. Lovett didn’t want to get his hopes up. He didn’t want to wish for things that wouldn’t happen, and he didn’t want to want things he couldn’t have.

But Tommy was _there_, wasn’t he? He was there, at midnight, standing outside Lovett’s house, and that must mean _something_. Lovett steadied himself and motioned for Tommy to come in, moving aside just enough for Tommy to get through. He tried to ignore the way his heart rate kicked up when Tommy brushed past him, their hands touching. Tommy leaned down to free Lucca from her leash, then stood to face Lovett, his arms dangling awkwardly at his sides.

Lovett closed the door.


End file.
